


Dark Water

by aussieokie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Gen, Ressler suffers yet again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussieokie/pseuds/aussieokie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red takes Ressler on a mission, having him pose as 'Donald from the State Dept' again. Ressler is sure Red, as usual, isn't telling him everything. But in the midst of it all, it's his own demons that he has to come face to face with. A Ressler drug addiction and withdrawal story, with lots of pain and suffering for our favourite agent!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> So a new story set in my 'Hard Rain universe'. While it's not necessary to have read that story, it does refer to some events in that story. I wanted to 'drag Ressler through the mud' again, and what better way than with what the writers have handed us! A pain pill addicted Ressler! It won't be a long story, but it's something I need to get out of my system before the show gives us their version of Ressler's addiction meltdown. (We believe on October 27th). As usual, from Ressler's POV with his thoughts in italics!

"So, how lucky are you, getting to go on this little pleasure cruise of yours." Liz goaded her partner, smiling at his reaction as she sat beside him in their shiny, FBI issued black Suburban. They were parked at the river, down from the Navy shipyards at their prearranged rendezvous point to meet Red.

Ressler shifted in the drivers' seat, again looking at his watch. "If the boat doesn't go out onto the water, it's technically not a cruise Liz. We'll just be docked at the marina." He told her, hoping like hell he was right.

She smiled and looked across at him. "You really think Red's going to actually be on a boat - a boat that he now owns - and not go out on the water?"

Ressler grimaced, and leaned his head back on the head rest. The last thing he wanted today was to go sailing with Reddington.

She grinned at the response that got in him. "You're such a landlubber!"

"Why the hell does he want me in on this anyway? You'd be far more believable. You actually like boats, Keen."

"You know why. He needs his 'Donald from the State Dept' with him - a persona some of his cronies have already met. I don't think he'd be too believable having 'Lizzie from the State Dept' there instead." She looked out the window into the rear view mirror on the passenger side. "There they are." she said, seeing Dembe driving the man of the hour toward their meeting point.

Ressler opened the door to get out and meet Red, and stopped as Liz teased him again. "I hope you packed your Dramamine."

"Oh, shut up..." he moaned, then looked determinedly at her as he climbed out the vehicle. "We're just going to the marina."

She chuckled at him as they turned to face Red.

_We had better just be going to the marina._

Red was approaching them, as Dembe stayed by the car. That cocky walk, spring in his step and jovial smile caused Ressler's stomach to drop. His unease was justified as soon as the criminal opened his mouth.

"Donald! Ready to go sailing?"

"Oh, shit..." he groaned softly and clenched his teeth, glaring at the burst of laughter from Liz as she grinned and called out to Red. "Oh yeah, he's ready!"

Red greeted them, slapping Ressler on the back, ignoring the man's grimace and clenched teeth.

"Lizzie, I'll have your partner back in a few hours." he told her, then looked back at Ressler, who was standing there with hands on hips regarding Red warily. "Come along Donald, the sea waits for no man."

As Red returned to the vehicle Ressler looked back at her. "Wish me luck..." he said, and shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"You'll be fine." she told him, smiling at him. He nodded dubiously, then hurried after Red and got in the back of his car. He really didn't like sitting in the back of vehicles.

_Especially not beside the man who takes SO much pleasure in torturing me._

###

Just over an hour later, they pulled up at a marina north of the Annapolis Naval Academy. Ressler really didn't like the ocean. Didn't like the smell of the salt water, or the sound of the mindless seagulls, or the sand that got in every nook and cranny known to man. _Give me trees and mountains any day._ Though his last encounter with a mountain was still fairly fresh in his mind. _Perhaps I'll reconsider the mountain part. At least it's not raining today._

Dembe parked the vehicle at the marina, pulling up beside the wooden walkways. Ressler didn't even like the wooden walkways, now that he thought about it. _Okay, we're here, quit complaining._ So he dutifully followed Red, feeling the urge to loosen his tie as the sun shone down on him. He quickly placed his hand in his right pocket, again making sure he had his pills.

_Yeah, the drug addict can't go anywhere without his damn little friends._

He had noticed something about himself. And it wasn't so much a profile, (as he knew Liz would say), but just an observation. In the mid point of a dose, when his body was all happily drugged and stable, he almost joked about them to himself. But as the hours went on that changed from joking, to sarcasm, to anger, then finally to hatred, fear, depression and self loathing when he was due for a dose. He almost didn't have to look at the clock anymore. His body told him exactly at what point he was in the cycle. So the fact he was reaching the anger stage told him he had about two hours to go before he'd need another dose.

_And we should be all done by then._

"Isn't she beautiful Donald?" Red's voice almost sang a couple of steps in front of him

_What? Oh, the boat._ He looked up then, and saw the boat Red was referring to.

"Whoa..." It wasn't what he was expecting. He'd thought maybe a speedboat, like you saw zipping around on lakes after summer barbecues. _Or being Red, a really big speedboat._ But this... this was a white torpedo on the water. Sleek and seaworthy, almost a floating hotel. Even he was reluctantly impressed.

"Just look at her Donald. All 120 feet of her, all three levels. I must admit, she cost a little more in ...resources... than I had bargained for, but when I saw her, I needed to have her. To feel every inch of that beauty beneath my feet out on the ocean."

_Of course you did. And what Red wants, Red gets._

Ressler sighed, his initial apprehension returning quickly. He took one last glance down at the wooden marina and followed Red up the steps to stand on the deck of the boat. "Nice boat." he intoned, and Red turned to him.

"THAT is a boat." he said, pointing across from them to a small 20 footer. THIS is a yacht." he said, proudly waving his hand to encompass the mammoth yacht they were standing on.

"Got it. Boat. Yacht." said Ressler, still hoping like hell Red had really been joking about going sailing. His stomach wasn't happy at the best of times now . _. yeah, that happens when you're a freakin' drug addict..._ so he really, really wasn't looking forward to being out on the water at all.

Not even on this boat. _Yacht. It's a yacht._

###

Red hadn't been joking. Leading Ressler and Dembe through the yacht, through the huge living area, bar and observation deck, they approached the bow. Entering the cockpit (as Red corrected Ressler when he called it the control room) Red suggested they get settled on a seating area at the rear of the cockpit. Ressler didn't feel like sitting though. Despite himself, he couldn't help but be impressed with this yacht. It felt very stable, and he moved over to look out the front windows.

"See, I told you you'd like it, Donald" smiled Red knowingly, watching the agent.

Ressler looked back at him. "Yeah, well, we're not moving right now." and turned back to look outside as Red chuckled and fired up the engines. Ressler had a momentary panic when he felt the boat... _yacht..._ tremble beneath him as the motors started. But then was so taken aback at the look of sheer delight on Red's face that he had to smile to himself as the criminal eased the yacht out of the marina now. _Like a kid with a new toy._

"Where are we meeting your...friends?" he squashed down the image that sprang to his mind when he said 'friends' and tried very hard not to put his hand in his right pocket.

"They will meet up with us out in the bay. Away from prying eyes and those nasty little things called cell phones." Red informed him, steering the boat deftly through the channel to reach the outer banks of Chesapeake Bay. Ressler didn't like that. They were going somewhere that had no cell signal apparently.

"And all you need to do is agree with everything I say, and today will go swimmingly." Red beamed at him.

_Yeah, and if I hold my hand in fire I won't get burned._

Ressler looked sideways at the man. Somehow, he didn't think today would go as 'swimmingly' as Red thought. He also had the distinct impression the man had not told him everything about their mission today. _But then, nothing new there._

They were leaving the marina now, on their floating hotel. Ressler looked down at the smaller boats around them, and again was kinda impressed with this. That didn't last too long though. As soon as they cleared the marina and entered the Chesapeake Bay, the feel of the yacht changed. They were no longer in calm waters. Now they were in the bay with waves. Now they were starting to sail in deeper water.

Ressler went and sat down.

"Don't tell me you're getting seasick already, Donald?" Red asked him charmingly and Ressler just looked at him and shook his head. "No. I'm good."

_Yeah...I'm amazing._

###

Forty minutes later, Ressler was definitely not feeling so good. He was standing watching the shoreline disappear from behind them, with no shore in front of them. They could have been in the middle of the Atlantic, with the lack of land around them and small, choppy waves. He did not like this one bit.

He checked his cell phone, and saw it was down to one bar of signal. _Just great..._

He turned from the cockpit and walked back through the bar area and paced around the large lounge. Needing to stop looking at the large expanse of water, he ducked into one of the bathrooms and quickly splashed his face. Drying it, he looked in the mirror. He pulled his pills out of his pocket and looked at them. _Maybe if I took one early..._ But he actually resisted that urge - only because he didn't think he would keep it down and couldn't bear to waste one - and shoved them back in his pocket. Exiting the bathroom before he could change his mind on the pills, he sat down, facing away from the windows.

_I'll just imagine I'm sitting in my living room. Right... because my living room is 30 feet long..._

A few minutes later Dembe softly approached him and he looked up at the man. "Mr Reddington wishes you to come to the cockpit."

Sighing, Ressler hauled himself off the couch and followed Dembe back to the front. The first thing he noticed was a large yacht in the distance. "There is our meeting place Donald. Think you can keep your lunch down long enough to do this?" Red asked him, noticing the agent looking a little pale around the gills.

"My lunch is doing just fine." he told the man, and turned to look at the yacht they were approaching. Right about now he was really starting to wish Red had taken 'Lizzie from the State Dept' on his little trip today.

As they approached the other yacht at a steady speed, Ressler stole a glance at his phone and saw no signal on it. _Keep it together..._ Red changed course slightly and headed right for the other yacht now, the pitch of the engine changing as Red slowed her down. Ressler had to admit, he'd heard talk of Reddington being a Navy man for years, but seeing the man sail this yacht _...have you ever sailed across an ocean Donald?..._ was rather surreal. The man was at home on the water, that was for sure.

They pulled alongside the other yacht as Red shut the engine down and dropped anchor. It felt oddly quiet in comparison. Ressler again looked out the windows, seeing no land in any direction, and swallowed hard.

_Just don't think about it. Don't._

But he couldn't stop thinking about it. They were on the sea in the middle of nowhere with no land in sight (and no cell signal).

His stomach lurched at the mere thought of it.

###

There was movement in the yacht across from them as a small dinghy was being lowered into the water, ready for their party to come over. Red turned to Ressler.

"I cannot stress this enough Donald. Simply agree with and go along with everything I say in their presence. Let's see you channel the Agent Ressler who ad-libbed superbly in front of Victor Lorca." He looked at Ressler, and there was no humor in his gaze. Ressler regarded him silently, wondering what the hell Red was up to his time, but nodded in agreement.

_Hell, I'm game. The sooner we get this over, the better._

They walked from the cockpit back through the bar and lounge, through to the rear deck area. Dropping down a spiral staircase, they descended to the lower level where the small dinghy was now heading for. The dinghy cut their engine and drifted in, as a man reached over and looped a rope over a mooring post.

Ressler was looking away from the small boat, the sight of all that dark, greenish-blue water making his lunch more than ready to make a big splashy entrance all over his shoes. There were three men getting out of the boat as he glanced down on them from the deck before averting his eyes again,

He momentarily turned away, closing his eyes as a wave of nausea hit. Instinctively, he reached into his right pocket and felt the pill bottle. It was reassuring to know they were there.

_Just don't lose your lunch. Not in front of Red. You will never hear the end of it._

And now Red was talking to him while he tried not to throw up. "Donald, I'd love to do a more formal introduction, but I'm afraid that will have to wait until this gentleman is more forthcoming with minor details - such as his name. Allow me to introduce the man you know as Berlin. But I believe you two have already met."

"What the?!" Ressler spun around, his nausea suddenly forgotten.

And looked right into the eyes of Berlin.

The man who had ordered Meera killed. Who had almost killed his boss. The man who had their names on his Whitelist. He was standing there beside Reddington, and Ressler felt his blood boil. The two of them were, what, ALLIES?!

_What the hell?! Don't you dare stand there smiling at me!_

To say that Donald Ressler was not himself since being on pain pills would be an understatement. He reacted instinctively and without thought. He was unarmed, since Donald from the State Dept was unarmed, but he lunged at Berlin. With a strangled cry, he grabbed for the mans' throat and would have got a much better hold if it weren't for the three men who suddenly held him back.

Dembe was first to move. Grabbing Ressler's right arm he pulled it off Berlin's throat and pinned it behind the agents' back. Berlin's two men then dropped him completely to the deck. Struggling under them, trying to regain his feet, he yelled at them to let him up. They pinned him down, as Red kneeled down to him.

"Really Donald? This is how you greet my guest?"

Ressler struggled under the two men, feeling panicky as they pinned him down so close to that churning dark water. _Guest?!_ "Get the hell off me!"

"Are you going to behave if they let you up?" Red asked him, sounding maddeningly calm.

Ressler glared at him, panting as he struggled, his face flushing. "Get them off me!" For a moment, he saw a flicker of concern cross Red's features, but then it was gone as Red stood and looked at Berlin. He struggled against the men, almost throwing them off him as he attempted to stand. He saw something out of the corner of his eye as he did so.

Something small, rolling toward the edge of the deck as he struggled.

His pill bottle.

"No! No!" He lunged for the bottle but couldn't reach it under the weight of the two goons and Dembe on him. He howled at them to let him go as he tried to reach the pills.

It was almost surreal. Almost poetic. In one perfectly timed motion, the yacht hitched on a wave, and the pill bottle fell straight over the edge, hitting the water and floating under the yacht.

His pills were gone.

"NO!" Ressler howled, watching the bottle disappear so completely from view. No one else saw them. Dembe was watching his boss. Berlin's two goons were looking at each other, sharing some joke at the expense of the deranged agent they were holding down. Berlin and Red were facing each other.

Ressler was the only one who saw his lifeline slip overboard.

Red calmly faced Berlin. "Would you be so kind as to call your dogs off, so I can retrieve my puppy?"

Berlin chuckled, and said something in German to the two men. They grinned at Ressler and then let him go, standing up warily in case he lunged at their boss again. Ressler's breath hissed through his teeth, and his heart pounded in his chest as he regained his feet. He glared at Red, looked at Berlin standing calmly on the deck, ran a frustrated hand across the back of his neck and stormed off the deck area.

_Shit! Berlin?!_

_My pills! Damn it!_

In a panic, he sprang up the spiral stairs away from the deck area, needing to clear his head. Almost running through the lounge area now, he headed for the bathroom he'd been in earlier and slammed the door behind him, leaning heavily against it. His reflection stared back at him. He took in the disheveled clothing, wild eyes, tousled hair and flushed face before he whirled away from the mirror. His hand flew before he realized and he screamed as he slammed his fist into the bathroom door. With a howl, he dropped to the floor holding his right knuckles.

The pain actually helped clear his head. Sitting on the floor he leaned against the door and concentrated on getting his breathing under control. Right now, the fact that Berlin was here almost paled in comparison to the fact he'd lost his pills.

_Oh my God._

Leaning against the door, cradling his throbbing and bleeding knuckles, he banged the back of his head lightly over and over against the door, trying to think. Desperation was rising in him.

He needed his dose within the hour.

_I need it NOW!_


	2. Sabotage

Ressler couldn't stay in the bathroom forever. After washing the blood off his throbbing knuckles, he hastily checked the drawers and cabinet for any medicine he could find - and found nothing. Taking a deep breath he opened the bathroom door. There was no one in sight.

He was feeling a little warm, almost feverish, as if his internal heat regulator was broken. After dropping his suit jacket on a couch he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Rolling up his shirt sleeves as he walked to the cockpit, he found the room empty and then looked down at the front deck. There they were. Red sitting with Berlin at a table _…like old friends…_ Berlin's men and Dembe were standing off to the side, out of earshot from the two seated men.

Feeling drained and more than a little foolish, but with his panic under control for now, he dropped down the stairs and walked onto the front deck. Red spotted him immediately, said something to Berlin then rose to meet the agent. Ressler stopped and regarded him silently as he approached.

"Feeling better Donald?" He cocked his head to the side, looking curiously at the agent. Ressler said nothing, clenched his teeth, and looked away momentarily. _No. But I'm not going to attack your... friend... over there again._

He finally found his voice and turned back to Red. "You wanna tell me what the HELL is going on here?" he hissed, his voice low.

Red looked back toward Berlin, with a look of mistrust and resignation rolled into one. "He's here because I asked him to be. It seems whatever disagreement he and I may have, we each share something greater. Someone who is apparently pulling both our strings."

The thought of anyone pulling Red's strings made Ressler scoff and he looked at the man, shaking his head.

"And whoever is at the bottom of this is pulling those strings tight enough to set Berlin onto my ex wife, and previously onto your task force. Meera died because of 'misinformation' that Berlin was given. We are allied - for the moment - to try and ascertain where that misinformation is coming from."

Ressler ingested that information. It actually sounded plausible. But then scowled when he realized that only the last year of his life with Number 4 as a 'partner' would make ANY of this sound plausible. _Seriously, I really want my old life back._

_In SO many ways..._

"Why out here?" Ressler waved his hand, looking at the expanse of ocean. His stomach roiled as he looked over the side of rail at the deep water, and quickly returned his gaze to Red.

"We needed somewhere to meet that was off the grid. This seems to fit the bill perfectly, wouldn't you say?" he asked, moving his head slightly to the side as he eyed Ressler. "And I'm sure you are wondering why you are here."

Ressler stared at him. _Of COURSE I'm wondering that._

"In order to track down who is threatening Berlin and I, he needs the same thing I did when I came knocking at your door a year ago. He needs allies. WE need allies - specifically from your side of the fence. And for now," he moved his head a little, smiling, "well, for now this seems to suit both of us. That could change any time. But for now - today - here we are."

_Just like that?! Team members killed or maimed, but now it's just business?!_

"What makes you think I won't just turn him in, and forego whatever little arrangements you two have made?" asked Ressler, leaning in and keeping his voice low, looking beyond Red and focusing on Berlin. He shoved his hand in his right pocket automatically, and if Red saw the moment of panic in Ressler's eyes for that split second, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Donald, you really need to stop thinking like a Fed and start thinking like a criminal. I have just handed you the best lead yet you have on this man. He in turn could give up so much more if he had new Federal friends."

"And Cooper knows nothing of this, right? Why involve only me?" asked Ressler, turning back to face Red.

"Because you're the best man for the job. Dear old Harold would have gathered all the King's horses and all the King's men in order to capture Berlin if he'd known. He would never have agreed to a clandestine meeting on the high sea. Nor would he ever have agreed to sending his lead agent in alone. Well, alone with ME." Red smiled, satisfied that he'd summed it all up nicely. "Yes, this is better." he confirmed, nodding.

_Better? This is better?!_

"The best man for the job? Why, because I owe you? Because you helped me hunt down Tanida and gave me his head in a box? Because you saved my life?" Ressler kept his voice even, but his insides were churning.

"Twice. I saved your life twice. Well, three times if you count your blood transfusion on our rain soaked mountain, but who's counting. But as much as it may surprise you, no, none of that is why you are here. I needed you here because Cooper wasn't there when Meera died. You were. You have seen first hand how powerful this unknown nemesis is. You have seen the results of his... handiwork."

Ressler stared at the man. _What the hell?! So the only qualification I have for this job is that I had my bloodied hands shoved around Meera's throat?!_ He looked away, then back at Red as he continued.

"But actually, the main reason is far more transparent. Berlin asked for you." Red regarded him calmly as Ressler clenched his teeth at that. "Then why 'Donald from the State Dept'? Berlin knows I'm FBI." he said, grimacing as he described himself.

"Oh, that was done for your benefit, not Berlin's. I needed you to freely give up your sidearm and Donald the FBI agent would never have done that."

It was so simple. And Red had been right. He'd done it immediately to 'get in character'. He shook his head now, clearing it so he could now focus on his 'other problem'. He sighed heavily. "So how long is this going to take?"

"However long it takes, Donald." said Red cheerfully.

Ressler was trying not to sound antzy. And failing miserably. "One hour, two? How long?" He swallowed, glancing at the churning ocean below him again.

Red looked at him, tilting his head, then nodding in understanding. "Don't worry Donald, we'll have you back on terra firma soon enough." Ressler just looked at him silently, clenching his jaw, wanting to strangle the calmness of the man. But as he looked at Red, seeing the understanding look on the criminal, he realized he had the PERFECT alibi here. Until he could get back to his apartment and his spare bottle of pills, he'd be the best version of a seasick sailor he could. Red would never suspect he was ... _having a complete meltdown._ Good ole' Captain Red would simply think he was seasick.

_Brilliant. I really can be amazing._

Red grinned then and slapped him on the shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. "And do try and settle down, Donald. You're a little testy today."

###

Ressler was really wondering just how this day could get any worse. He sat down reluctantly across from Berlin, while Red prattled on beside him about some woman he'd met with golden hair and the most delightful eyes. He wasn't listening. All he could see beyond Berlin was the deep, dark water of the ocean. Averting his gaze, he decided to look down at the table, effectively blocking the sight. He was aware of Berlin looking at him, and his skin crawled.

"This does not look like the same man who visited me in the hospital, no?" he said, in his clipped English, waving his hand (his real hand, Ressler noticed) toward him.

"Oh, he just doesn't sail very well, and is off his game today." said Red cheerfully. "Isn't that right, Donald?" he smiled, looking sideways at Ressler who simply glared at him in reply. He noticed Ressler's swollen knuckles now, recognizing a fist slammed into a hard, immovable object when he saw one. "And what happened to your hand?"

Ressler glanced down at his right hand, seeing the bruise already forming. "A door bumped it." _I don't wish to discuss it._

Red smiled, and shook his head as he eyed the agent. "Here, have a drink. Don't worry, it's just lemon water. It will help settle your stomach." he said, and if Ressler didn't know better, he'd swear there was genuine concern in Red's tone. He nodded to the criminal, in silent thanks. He really was starting to feel unwell. The sun was bothering him. He'd never been a fan of hot weather and even sitting under the canopy with the breeze coming off the water, he felt like he was suffocating in the heat.

Red was pouring the drink into Ressler's glass when the yacht suddenly pitched about two feet to the port side before shuddering to a stop. Ressler grabbed the table and stifled a gasp.

_I just knew it. We're going to sink._

"Well, that's a little disconcerting." Red calmly put the decanter down and looked to Dembe. But Dembe was already on it, heading up the stairs toward the cockpit. Red swiftly followed to see what was going on, leaving a nervous Ressler sitting alone in the presence of Berlin and his two men.

"It is probably nothing. These boats are not perfect." said Berlin, looking at him in slight amusement. Looking into Berlin's calm eyes and noting the condescending expression, it suddenly made perfect sense how this man and Reddington could be allies.

_They're the same damn person. Except Red has two hands._

Ressler suddenly realized he was still gripping the table and slowly let go. As he did so, another shudder ran through the length of the yacht, and he could immediately feel a difference in how she sat in the water. No longer perfectly calm, now she rocked gently on the waves. Ressler's eyes shot up to look at the cockpit as Berlin calmly informed him that it looked like the stabilizers had gone out.

_Absolutely fantastic. What the hell else can happen today?_

The movement of the yacht was unnerving as he sat there, noticing he was gripping the table again. He rose to his feet, unable to sit this close to the man who had ordered Meera killed. He may not be feeling the urge to choke Berlin any more, but he sure as hell didn't need to sit and socialize with him. He turned from the table, suddenly almost afraid to walk in case something else happened. Like the yacht pitching over on its side - and then sinking, of course. Or splitting in two like the Titanic and spiraling gracefully to the sea floor - with all hands lost, of course. He suddenly shivered, then left Berlin and his two men and went to go see what Red was doing in the cockpit. Climbing the stairs, gripping the railing very hard, he made it to the cockpit and found it empty.

As he approached the seat - Captain Red's chair - he stood and looked down at the panel on the dashboard. Red warning lights were blinking on and off.

_Oh, that can't be good..._

In the midst of all his concern about the condition of the yacht, feeling it bobbing on the ocean in a most unsettling manner, he had momentarily 'forgotten' his own predicament. Until a pain shot through his stomach like a lance, causing him to double over and gasp as he clutched his middle. Sweat sprang to his forehead and for a second he thought his lunch was finally going to show up. But it passed, the pain receded and he swallowed down the feeling and slowly stood up straight. He looked at his watch. He was only an hour past dose time, and already having problems.

He heard steps behind him as Red and Dembe came through the lounge and up to the cockpit. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turned to face them as they came in. Red did not look happy. In fact, Red looked downright pissed.

"So, what's the verdict?" Ressler asked, dreading the answer. And in one of those rare moments, Red had actually lost all charm and completely ignored his question before heading down the stairs to the front deck. Ressler watched him jog down the stairs, then turned and arched his eyebrows as he looked at Dembe, who was as silent and non-committal as ever.

He didn't think Dembe was going to offer any explanation. But then he spoke softly and calmly. "The hydraulic hoses to the propulsion, steering and stabilizers have been cut."

"Cut?! How?" Ressler's heart jumped.

"We have been sabotaged, Agent Ressler. We are not going anywhere." Dembe told him calmly.

_What?!_

The bottom fell out of Ressler's stomach. He needed to get out of here. Needed to be off this water and back in his apartment. Needed to take his Oxy. _Damn! Damn! Damn!_ With an effort he squashed the rising panic. And as his heart rate slowed again, he suddenly realized the irony of the situation.

_My freakin' stabilizers have been cut too._

As if in confirmation, his stomach cramped up again. He turned away from Dembe, resisting the urge to grab his stomach. As the feeling passed, he looked at Red below the window, who was by now having a very un-Red like heated discussion with Berlin.

He turned back to Dembe. "We seriously can't move? Can't get out of here at all?!"

Dembe just shook his head gently in reply.

_Oh my God._

###

His mind reeling, Ressler headed back down to the deck, seeing that Red and Berlin's conversation was apparently done or had reached an impasse. Red saw him, but made no move to come talk to him.

Ressler already had his own plan forming in his mind. _Simple. We can go across in the dinghy and hitch a ride back on Berlin's yacht._ His fear of what was coming with no pills was causing him to make decisions that he would never normally consider. The choice to get on a boat - alone and unarmed if need be - with a convicted criminal who had killed his work colleague and almost garroted his boss seemed perfectly logical right now.

"All I'm saying is that you need to do some housekeeping amongst your staff. I only have one employee with me here, and he stood right there the entire time we were meeting." Red said to Berlin, calmer now and sitting down at the table.

"Again, as did mine. My men were in sight the entire time." replied Berlin.

Ressler had stood back listening, but now ventured forward to voice his plan. He stopped in his tracks as a sound came across the water. The engines to Berlin's yacht were firing up. As Berlin stood up, motioning to one of his men to radio the yacht, the engines increased in speed and the anchor was lifted.

"I'd say your ride is leaving without you." Red said, looking squarely at the man. "Now do you believe me when I tell you that you have a serious security issue?"

Ressler sprang to the side rail, watching Berlin's yacht. _No! I need to get back!_ And as he watched, the yacht slowly gathered itself up and began to move away. The strong motors churned as it came up to speed now, causing two trails of white water and a large wake as it left.

Ressler's heart sank. The panic that had been under control for a while now reared it's ugly head again. His hand - his painful right hand - reached into his right pocket, willed the pills to be there - to have somehow materialized out of thin air. Of course, they were gone. _No, no, no, no, no, no..._ He dropped his eyes from the sight of the leaving yacht, quickly looking at the deck to steady his stomach.

Berlin was on the radio now, yelling into it in German. Ressler didn't understand what he was saying - but didn't need to - he was making his feelings perfectly clear. There was no reply on the radio, and again Berlin yelled into it. As the silence greeted him again, Berlin gritted his teeth and tossed the radio back to one of his men.

"It appears we are all stuck here." Red told the German, then went and stood by Ressler at the railing, watching the yacht leave.

"Well Donald, the answer to your question on how long this will take has just been left wide open." As he said it, the yacht lurched on the water as it got hit by the wake from Berlin's yacht. Ressler gasped, closed his eyes against the motion and faint spray of sea water and gripped the railing hard. He suddenly felt Red's hand on his shoulder and glanced sideways at the man.

"Don't worry; I do have resources to get us out of here. Hang tight Agent Ressler. We should be out of here by morning."

_Morning?! I need to get out of here NOW!_ Ressler leaned on the rail, feeling his hands shaking now. _Oh my God. It's starting. It's happening._

A thought came to him, borne by his absolute need to get out of here. "The dinghy..." he panted, but didn't even finish the sentence when Red nodded, smiling broadly at him now. "Exactly, Donald."

Red patted Ressler's shoulder then walked back over to Dembe who had silently joined them as Berlin's yacht left. "Dembe, come with me." said Red, and led his employee back toward the engine room.

At the railing, Ressler kept his head bowed, trying to ignore his stomach as the yacht still rolled in the wake from Berlin's yacht. He opened his eyes again and looked up, seeing the sleek yacht much further away now. Why had they left? Why had they left their boss here? Glancing back at Berlin, he again noticed the calm demeanor of the man. _Just like Reddington._

But then his stomach rolled again and finally, after threatening for hours, what was left of his lunch came hurtling back up. Leaning over the railing, he vomited, now hearing the laughter and snide remarks of Berlin's employees. To his surprise, he heard Berlin bark a sharp order to them, and the laughing ceased immediately. _Just like Reddington._

His stomach empty now, he stood straight again. He left the railing, walking shakily back up the stairs to the cockpit. He didn't know where to go. But he would need to explore this yacht and get his bearings. Because he needed somewhere to lock himself away for the night - away from prying eyes and laughing employees. He needed to be alone while his body rebelled. He'd been through it before for a few hours. Now he had to face an entire night before they got out of here. Trembling, he reached the cockpit and slumped in Captain Red's chair for a moment, looking at the warning lights blinking on the console before him.

_I am so screwed. So, so screwed._

But then, despite his desperate need to be alone overnight with what he knew what was coming, a thought came to mind. Another thing he needed... and he didn't realize how much he needed it till right now.

_Liz... I so wish you were here with us. With... me..._


	3. Discovery

Having caught his breath somewhat, Ressler dragged himself out of the captain's chair. His body was trembling, with a constant shiver that seemed to run right through his nerves. Needing to find Red, he had no idea where the engine room was, but figured he'd find it if he went far enough aft (he was picking up the lingo now). Leaving the cockpit he made his way through the large lounge, and out onto the back observation deck. The deck below him still had the small dinghy moored to it, and it bobbed happily on the dark water. But all Ressler could see when he looked down to that level was his bottle of pills, rolling away from him and falling over the edge in slow motion.

All he could see was the moment everything went to hell and then some.

_Damn. I so need to get out of here!_

Finding the spiral staircase, he carefully made his way down trying very hard to relax his muscles so he would stop shaking long enough to get down the stairs in one piece. It was impossible though. He could feel his entire muscular system quivering under his skin, keeping good company with his nerves. Most of it was the withdrawal, but some of it, to his immense 'luck', was in fact seasickness. No matter how much he told himself the ocean swell was barely there, to him, the waves felt enormous. _Score one for the seasick sailor._

Finally level with the dinghy now, he took a better look at it. It was inflatable, could seat 6 people easily and looked to be about 15 feet long. _That might work... I'd probably fall overboard and drown, but that might work._ His stomach suddenly clenched at the sight of it and how small and close to the water it was. _Who the hell are you kidding?!_

The sound of Red's voice came to him as he stood there, and he looked behind to see a small doorway. That had to be the engine room, and moving back to the open hatch, he peered in, and then dropped down another flight of stairs. This yacht was huge. The engine room alone was bigger than his apartment and so clean and full of chrome that it resembled no greasy, rusty engine room that he'd ever seen. He walked over to Red and Dembe, who were leaning over a panel.

"How's it going?" he asked the two men, coming up behind them, trying very hard to keep his voice steady. _I'm just seasick._

Red turned to face him, his eyes squinting for a moment as he took in the sight of the rather shabby looking FBI agent before him. "Well I could bore you with how many hoses we need, diameters and what psi rating, but suffice to say Donald, we're not going anywhere for a while." Ressler gritted his teeth momentarily at that and glanced away, as Red continued, "However, I told you I have resources. We are checking every system for any more surprises, and ascertaining just what we need in spare parts to repair this lovely lady. Then we will work on procuring those parts."

_What, the local yacht repairman makes house calls out here in the middle of nowhere?_

Ressler indicated to the inflatable dinghy outside, nodding with his head rather than holding out his shaking arm. "What about that? How far can it go?" He was trying very hard to keep the rising panic out of his voice.

Red regarded him thoughtfully, and then shrugged. "20 to 30 miles." Ressler looked up at that news, suddenly hopeful, but Red continued with a pained expression. "But not today. It appears the party that swam over here to disable the yacht were very thorough and removed the outboard motor from the dinghy."

"Damn it." Ressler groaned and turned away a moment, gasping as he held his stomach as another cramp shot through it. _This just keeps getting better and better._ His body might be struggling now, but his mind still had a few ideas left in it.

"But we only need to go far enough to get cell phone signal. Right?" he asked Red, his voice more shaky than he liked.

"Exactly. Maybe 4 or 5 miles. We're going to have to row, but it's doable."

From behind Red, Dembe suddenly spoke up. "I will row out there Agent Ressler, and make the call." Ressler actually smiled at that. Of course. This was almost fun to Dembe. The man who had chain sawed his way down a mountain road would have no problem rowing a boat a few miles.

His humor was short lived as a strong cramp gripped his stomach causing him to double over, clutching his stomach, panting. The cramp easing up now, he regained his composure. Red bent down to look at him. "Donald, you should try and rest while we take care of this."

Ressler ignored him, straightening again, "How long... before you row out there?" He asked Dembe, unable to stop the hitch in his voice. _Stop sounding like a 6 year old!_

Red was looking at him in concern, tilting his head in that manner he had of studying people. "Soon Donald. But for now, come with me. You need to lay down my friend, and the lower levels are a little smoother."

Ressler nodded in resignation. He'd needed to find somewhere to hole up. _May as well have the grand tour from Captain Red._

###

As they walked up onto the back deck, Ressler's stomach lurched. Stepping quickly to the rail he leaned over just in time as he threw up again over the side. Leaning over, retching, aware Red was right behind him.

_Cue the seasick sailor in front of the Captain. Check._ He was doing a stellar job of looking seasick. It took no effort at all now.

He stopped retching and turned back to Red, panting. "Okay... I'm done feeding the fish now."

Red smiled sympathetically, and led him back up the spiral staircase (which Ressler gripped very hard), into the lounge area, then down to the lower level. Despite feeling like absolute crap, Ressler was actually impressed. Descending a carpeted stair case, they came to the bedroom level, and now it most definitely looked like a hotel. Complete with an ornate lobby, the bedrooms then lined either side of the lower level. Red walked past them, pointing out two rooms with twin beds, two more rooms each with a queen bed, and then made his way back to the master suite at the opposite end of the hallway. He entered the large room, and turned back to Ressler.

"Here you go Donald, get some rest in here. The bathroom is through there, so you won't have to lean overboard any time you feel the need to lose your lunch again."

If Ressler had been feeling better, he'd have found it rather weird standing in a master suite discussing bathrooms with Reddington. As it was, he was beyond caring and just welcomed the gesture the man had made by giving him the 'Captains quarters'.

Red turned to leave, and then looked back. Even he could now see how much Ressler was shaking. "I'll have Dembe come down in a bit with a jug of water. Need to keep those fluids up Donald." He closed the door behind him as he left, leaving Ressler finally alone. He'd held it in the entire time Red stood there, but now he kicked off his shoes and sunk to the bed. Curling up on the bed on his side, he clutched his stomach as he shook.

_I don't know how I'm going to do this, Liz._

He felt so sick and desperate, he barely even realized his inner conversation with Audrey had suddenly been redirected.

###

Five minutes later, Ressler couldn't bear lying down. He sprang from the bed with his muscles jangling, needing to move them. Pacing the room, he panted, walking on muscles that were threatening to cramp up at any second. Walking briskly, he was just coming out of the bathroom on another lap of the room when he was startled by a knock at the door.

"Co...come in." he panted, and stood perfectly still. Well, as still as he could with his body trembling from head to toe.

It was Dembe, with a pitcher of water, a glass and a sleeve of dry crackers on a small tray. _Room service._ Ressler nodded in thanks to Dembe as he put the tray down. He felt an insane urge to tip the man, as bizarre as the situation felt. But Dembe simply nodded to him and exited the room. Ressler looked at the water, briefly considered it, then turned away and resumed his laps as the jangle in his muscles picked up speed again, protesting at their brief pit stop.

He changed his routine now though. Instead of mindlessly circling the room, he opened drawers and cabinets as he went. Maybe there was something, anything, he could take that would calm his system a little. Going from drawer to drawer, he found nothing. Most drawers were empty, some had towels or sheets in them, and one had hair accessories - women's hair accessories he noticed.

On his next lap he opened up the doors to the closet, and was surprised to see it filled with clothes. They didn't look like clothes Red would wear. Far too casual, with plaid shirts, shorts and sneakers and 'boat shoes'. The former captain, no doubt. He didn't even want to contemplate what had happened to him. Tossing the lids off a few shoe boxes in the bottom of the closet, he stopped at one and leaned down ignoring his muscles for the moment.

The box contained a fully automatic Glock 45mm pistol, complete with a box of shells. _Screw Donald from the State Dept. Donald from the FBI is taking that._ He checked the clip, finding it loaded. Which was indeed fortunate, because if he'd had to take shells one by one and drop them in the clip, he'd have dropped most of them on the floor as badly as he was shaking. He quickly closed the lids to all the shoe boxes then hid the loaded weapon under one of the pillows on the bed.

It was while he was continuing his circuit of the room, desperate to find anything that would ease his symptoms or get him off the yacht that he suddenly realized he'd missed something. Something so simple, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it.

_Boats have radios._

He threw his shoes back on, tucked his wayward shirt back in and carefully opened the door. For one insane moment he almost expected to see an armed guard outside. The hallway was empty though, of course. He made his way to the staircase, then climbed them, coming out in the lounge area. Again, no one in sight. The light had changed, and as he turned to look out the back deck, he saw the sun low on the water. He also saw the silhouettes of Berlin and his two men, sitting with their backs to him, also apparently watching the sunset. He moved quietly away from them, unseen, and entered the cockpit.

_Where the hell is it?_ He looked for the radio, expecting it to be easy to spot, but finally located it at one end on a side panel. He reached for the mic, held it in his shaking hand, and pressed the talk button.

"Hello...?"

_Seriously? Hello?_

He pressed it again. "This is...Special Agent Donald Ressler of the... FBI," he said, trying not to pant, but finally giving that up as a lost cause. "Can anyone... hear me?" He listened.

Nothing.

He moved the dial, and tried again. And again got no response. _Damn! There has to be someone out there!_ He was just getting ready to try it again, running his fingers through his sweaty hair when he heard Red's voice behind him.

"Donald, what are you doing up here?"

Ressler ignored the stupid question and spun around. "How the hell does this work?"

Red regarded him quietly, looking at shaking, sweaty agent with concern. "It doesn't. The former owner of this yacht, for various reasons which... well, we shall not go into right now... chose not to have a radio on board. That worked well for him and no doubt will for me also, in my line of work. I saw no need to have it replaced."

"Seriously?! You have a freaking floating palace out here, and no damn communication?!" Gritting his teeth in complete frustration, his body a mass of screaming, shaking nerves and muscles, Ressler threw the mic back at the radio.

He stormed over to where Red was standing beside the main console and captain's chair. "Dammit Reddington! I need to get out of here!" And to emphasize just HOW much he needed to, his stomach let loose with a massive cramp, dropping him to his knees as he cried out and grit his teeth against the pain.

Raymond Reddington had seen a great many things in his life. Some, he rather wished he hadn't seen, and others, he longed to see again. As a man of the sea, he'd seen his fair share of weekend sailors as well as fully fledged 'give their all for it' Navy men. He recognized the many ways men took to the ocean. Some were simply born to it - such as himself. Others couldn't tolerate it one bit, loosing their stomachs at the first motion. And looking at Ressler now, clutching his stomach, shaking uncontrollably and dry retching on the floor in front of him, he saw neither. What he saw gave him chills. He had seen this before, but not on any boat. The FBI agent might be telling him he was seasick, but Reddington was no fool.

Donald Ressler was lying to him.

And that fact alone made Red sit up and take notice.

Ressler was trying to regain his feet, but his body wasn't obeying him, his muscles having gone from clanging cymbals to quivering jello in moments. _Dammit, get up!_ But he couldn't, and was about to drop completely to his side on the floor when he felt Red's hands under his arms, hauling him up off the floor and to his feet.

"Don't touch me!" he panted, but not too convincingly.

Red hauled him up to the captains' chair and sat him down roughly on it. He then leaned forward on the arms, closely studying the complete mess in front of him that was nowhere near the poised Agent Ressler he knew. Ressler glared at him, but was unable to move off the chair right now.

"You are not seasick, Donald." Red's cold eyes bored into his, searching his face.

"I don't sail well. You said it yourself." Ressler told Red, glaring into his face, his jaw set.

"So that's the way you're going to play this? Seriously Donald, you look like a street thug about to mug someone to get their next fix!"

That got Resslers attention, and some of the anger dropped out of him. _That's exactly what I am...that's how low I've sunk._

Red reached his hand up to Ressler to feel the pulse at his neck, holding his head still when Ressler tried to flinch away. He then felt the sweaty forehead of the shaking agent, feeling the heat radiating off him. But the telltale sign was Ressler's eyes. Even in the bright light of the cockpit, they looked like large, dark saucers. Hugely dilated, and far different to their normal calm blue.

"Don't…don't touch me..." Ressler protested weakly, but he was beaten, he knew that.

_Red knows! He knows!_ He could no longer hide it from the man. _Liz...he knows..._

The fight went out of him and his head fell back against the chair as he closed his eyes in silent resignation. And as he did so, he felt Red's hand touch his shoulder and heard the change in Red's voice. "Donald. I'm so sorry you have ended up like this, my friend"

He opened his eyes, his whole body shaking, and looked at Red. "I just need... to get out of here." he said quietly. It wasn't a demand. It was a plea.

"So you can find your spare drugs? No Donald. As bad and as desperate as you may feel this is actually rather fortuitous that this happened way out here. Oh, I know you won't see it that way. But trust me, this is your lucky day."

Ressler felt some of his anger return at that remark. "Lucky?! Yeah, I am SO freakin' lucky!" _Just get me off this boat!_

"Trust me, by time you get out of here you will have turned a huge corner in your life." Red stood to the side of the chair now, patting Ressler's shoulder again, but Ressler moved his shoulder out the way quickly.

"Just leave me alone, okay? I don't need your sympathy. I just need to get off this..." But he couldn't even finish the sentence as his stomach cramped again and he lurched forward on the chair, feeling Red reaching down and patting his back.

###

As Red was standing beside Ressler, he saw Dembe enter the cockpit. He took another glance at the trembling agent leaning forward in the chair, before stepping toward his employee.

If Dembe noticed the obviously sick Agent Ressler, he didn't mention it to his boss as he handed Red a sheet of paper. "Raymond, here are all the parts we need."

Red took the paper and the offered pen from Dembe, and wrote something else on it. He turned back to his employee, aware of Ressler sitting up straight in the chair now, and turning the chair away from them a little.

He handed the paper back to Dembe. "Here are our GPS coordinates. Have Vargas contact Frank and get the parts we need and get them out here at first light." He stole another look back at Ressler hearing his breath coming in short pants in the chair near him, then moved Dembe out of earshot.

"I need you to do something else Dembe. I need you to call Lizzie. I can't emphasize this enough Dembe - no Harold, no FBI, she must only tell Harold I need her to complete our mission. Do not tell her anything but that."

Dembe looked up quietly at his boss, then glanced at the back of the chair Ressler was sitting on, and understood.

Red spoke quietly again. "Do whatever you need to do Dembe and get her on whatever boat you can find," he turned quickly at the sound of Ressler dry retching again, then swung back to Dembe.

"Get her here as soon as you can."


	4. Meltdown

As Dembe left to ready the dinghy armed with his instructions, he stole a glance back at the FBI agent. He'd seen that look before too. It was obvious there was more wrong with the man than being seasick. He had to hand it to his boss. That combination that made up Raymond Reddington would always be an enigma to him. He was without doubt a ruthless killer, disposing of people almost without qualm. A monster, as he'd heard Agent Keen call him. And she was absolutely right - he'd seen it first hand on numerous occasions. But he'd also seen the other persona - the one that he'd just left behind in the cockpit - that of concerned caregiver.

His boss cared for both FBI Agents. Differently for sure, but he cared for both without a doubt. He understood why he cared for Agent Keen. Not specifically, but he'd seen and heard things over the years. What he found fascinating was how much he took care of Agent Ressler. Was it because Agent Keen maybe liked Agent Ressler? Because his boss realized Agent Ressler was good for his Lizzie? Somehow, he thought it was more than that. Where Raymond Reddington was concerned, it was always deeper with much more under the surface.

As he climbed into the dinghy to start looking for the oars and get ready to leave, he looked back up at the yacht. He couldn't see them anymore, but he knew for sure that even now, his boss would tend to Agent Ressler. Making sure he was settled even though one of his enemies was sitting watching the sunset on the back deck. If someone ever asked him how he was able to work for a man like Raymond Reddington, he would smile silently. Because if they had to ask, then they had only seen the killer version of Red. If they truly knew the man they would never have to ask.

He smiled, placed the oars in the oarlocks, lifted the rope off the mooring post, and rowed away from the yacht. "I shall return soon, my brother." he said out loud, setting out in the small boat in the glow of the setting sun.

###

As Dembe left, Ressler sat in the captain's chair, shaking uncontrollably with muscles that were about to cramp. He wanted very much to get up off the chair, slink down to the bedroom and fall onto the bed. But that all seemed too difficult and way too far to attempt right now.

He was in a strange place. His body was betraying him, shaking and trembling out of control. His muscles were getting wound up and he'd have to start moving very soon to try and hold off the cramps. He was starting to feel exhausted, yet being figuratively slapped in the face by Red had woken him up in an almost surprising manner.

_I'm a street thug about to mug someone to get my next fix._

The image was both startling and horrific. But as he looked at his trembling, disheveled, sweaty reflection in the front windows he could see the resemblance immediately. Red had nailed it in one.

"Stay here a moment Donald, I need to go talk to my guests." Red reluctantly left Ressler sitting in the cockpit, and went out to the back deck to talk to Berlin.

_Stay here? I'm not going anywhere, remember?_

His muscles threatened to cramp in his legs again. He'd sat still too long. Springing out of the chair he began walking briskly around the cockpit. He couldn't hold off the cramps much longer though, not the way his muscles were aching from the continual shaking. And so he walked, stumbling in parts, clutching his stomach as cramps tore through it. With sweat pouring off him, he continued his laps around the room, unable to keep his body still.

Red finished talking to Berlin, having ascertained the man had a contingency plan. Failure to show up at a certain location at a certain time this evening would immediately dispatch his security team to look for him at his last known location. By his calculations, there should be a boat showing up in a couple of hours to pick him up. It was impossible to verify that without communications though. With that settled, Red headed back to Ressler in the cockpit, surprised to see the FBI agent walking briskly around the room instead of sitting on the chair.

"Donald, how are you doing?" Red asked him quietly.

"Fine. I'm fine." he panted as he continued doing his laps, heading away from the criminal. As he rounded the turn and walked back toward Red, he slowed, and then stopped, his chest heaving. He looked at Red, then looked away, unable to meet the man's gaze.

"So I'm going to take an educated guess and say it's opiates. Pain meds. Am I right?" Red asked the agent gently.

_Oh my God...here we go..._

"Yes... OxyContin..." said Ressler, and as soon as the word was out of his mouth, the wall fell down. He had admitted his poison to another person. It was no longer a secret he bore alone. "I tried not to. I tried, but... I needed to...to push through..." he couldn't finish and turned away to continue his lap, brushing the tears away. As he rounded the turn and faced Red again, his tears were stilled and he looked at Red silently, suddenly unsure what to do.

Red took in the sweaty, wild eyed agent before him. "First thing you need to do is go take a shower. Seriously Donald, you've sweat up a storm tonight." Red managed a smile at that, and Ressler nodded in agreement, glad for something to actually do.

He had held off telling Ressler that Lizzie would be here 'soon', because if Donald knew she was coming, he'd have far too much time to think about being seen like this by her, and talk himself out of letting her help. Because Red knew that if Lizzie simply showed up, Ressler wouldn't be able to stop himself gravitating to her.

"There are clean clothes in the closet that should fit you." he added, as Ressler headed for the lounge area to head downstairs. He didn't tell Red he'd already seen the clothes in the closet. Because to admit that would mean he might have to admit he'd found the gun in there too. And he didn't feel the need to mention that right now.

###

The cramps hit while Ressler was standing in the shower, the first one shooting through his left calf. As he tried to stretch his calf muscle, that in turn caused his foot to cramp. Gasping in pain while attempting to straighten his leg, he turned off the water and hobbled out. Using the bathtub for leverage, he finally pulled the muscle into a better position and the cramps relented. He was about to stand upright when his right calf followed suit, caught in a vise-like grip. As he pushed on his leg to ease that cramp, his left leg decided it wasn't done yet either.

And to add insult to injury, his stomach cramped at the same time, shortly followed by cramps shooting through his ribs. He dropped to the floor, unable to stretch in any way that would alleviate every cramp. Tears fell and he whimpered in pain as his body locked up completely. Unable to get up off the floor, he rolled over and slid across the bathroom floor, aided by the fact he was still wet. Managing to haul himself up into a crawling position once he reached the bedroom carpet, he aimed for the bed, and finally hauled himself up. Quickly throwing on the clean shorts, he fell into the bed, pulling the blankets over in an attempt to warm his muscles.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on lying completely still despite the shakes that filled his body. Focused on anything except his cramped muscles. Because the second he concentrated on them, they clenched even harder. So he lay in bed, buried his head in the pillow and thought about Audrey. Her smile, the way she looked at him, the way she felt when he hugged her, loved her, held her.

And lying like that, surrounded in memories of his lost lover, his body relaxed and he fell into an exhausted sleep.

###

Ressler's memories turned into a dream. But then the dream became a nightmare. Softness turned to horror. Joy became unbearable pain. Love became loss. Fiancés and unborn babies died in his arms. And work colleagues died horrible, blood filled deaths. And leering over it all, a one handed man, who looked at him in amusement and condescension.

Even as he shot awake with his chest heaving, all he could see was blood. The memory of blood pouring over his hands, all over his clothes and all over the floor. The look in Meera's eyes as she had died. The look on Liz's face when they looked at the photo of Meera's children. And the man in his dream, the one handed man had ordered that. Had ordered them hunted down! Except he wasn't just in his dream. He was on this yacht!

_He's right here! The man who had Meera killed is right here!_

Ressler had no concept of the fact that his brain wasn't thinking straight. That his mind was being held hostage and his body was going into shock. Its expected next dose had not shown up, and his brain needed it to function. Not to get high, or ease pain, but to regulate his systems and keep him looking and acting normal. And so, as Ressler lay trembling in bed thinking of Berlin being on this very yacht, he was completely unaware that his brain was no longer functioning correctly.

As he almost fell out of bed, finding that his legs had turned to jello, his mind was whirling.

_If Meera hadn't have died, I wouldn't have started taking more Oxy. I wouldn't have got so addicted to them!_

_I feel like this because of what Berlin did!_

And with his mind betraying him, leading him astray, he grabbed the gun from under the pillow and slipped it in the back of his waistband before hiding it with the clean shirt.

_This is his fault! He did this to me! I need to know why!_

And armed, shaking from head to toe, not even stopping to throw on his shoes, he hobbled out of the bedroom to find Berlin.

###

Red approached him as he saw him coming up the stairs into the lounge area. "Donald, you should be..." But in an instant, he realized Ressler wasn't listening. Wasn't even looking at him.

Ressler barely even noticed Red. He didn't stop and made his way unsteadily to where Berlin was sitting on a couch in a forward section of the lounge near the bar. He stood right in front of the man, shaking uncontrollably.

Berlin calmly looked at the shoe-less, casually dressed FBI agent before him.

_And there it is! That amused look!_

Ressler spoke, aware his voice was shaking, but needing to get this out. "I want to know why you targeted us. We were just doing our jobs." He started, glaring at Berlin.

Berlin looked thoughtfully at the agent, but didn't say anything.

"You killed a woman I was supposed to protect, and almost murdered my boss, and we were just doing our jobs!" He yelled at Berlin, frustrated he wasn't even answering him.

Red approached, standing beside the couch that Berlin was sitting on. "Donald, this won't help."

Wild eyed, he looked up at Red, gritting his teeth as he shook. "I need to know this!" If Ressler saw the sympathy in Red's gaze, he ignored it.

Berlin spoke now, but not to Ressler. He glanced at Red. "Your puppy has a sharp bite." And at that he chuckled.

"Don't! Don't you dare laugh at me!" Ressler shouted at the German. And at that moment he reached back, found the loaded gun and held it on Berlin.

Berlin motioned for his men to stay well back.

"Oh, God..." Red could see this going from bad to worse, and was trying to settle the agent. "Donald, come over to the galley. Sit down and try and eat something..." Red almost implored the agent now, needing to defuse this.

Ressler glared at Red. "Shut up! Just shut up!" and turned his attention back to Berlin, inching closer to him.

"You did this! You killed Meera! Almost killed my boss! You did this to me!" He shouted, standing in front of Berlin, holding the gun shakily in both his hands.

Red held out his hand to Berlin, urging him not to inflame this situation even more. "Donald, please... give me the gun..."

Ressler wasn't listening to Red. "You are one of the reasons I'm going through this!" he yelled at Berlin, angry that the man wasn't defending himself. "And you sent Liev and tried to kill us too! You tried to kill Liz!"

A cramp tore through his stomach at that moment, and the gun dipped a little. Red saw the opportunity and took a step forward. But Ressler steadied himself and aimed the gun at Red, breathing hard.

"Don't! Don't make me Red!" While holding the gun on Berlin he had been 'fine'. But aiming the gun at Red caused angry tears to fall. "Just don't!" He turned the gun back to Berlin again.

"You killed her! I had her blood all over me!" he screamed at Berlin, emphasizing his hands. Showing him where Meera's blood had been. "She had two kids! Two girls! And a husband!"

He was out of control now, the gun held in his shaking hand, screaming at Berlin. "Why would you do that?! Why?! Look what it's done to me!"

"And you!" He suddenly aimed the gun back at Red, sobbing. "You ruined my life! Look what you've done to me!"

"Donald, I didn't do this to you..." Red said quietly, but was interrupted as Ressler screamed at him again.

"Yes you did! I got shot protecting you! That's what got me on the damn pills!" It all made perfect sense to Ressler now.

And as another cramp shot through his middle and he almost doubled over, he righted himself and screamed at Red. "And you're stopping me getting to them now!"

"Donald...give me the gun..." Red took a step forward, holding out his hand.

"No!"

He moved it off Red though, and back to Berlin. "You didn't answer me! I need to know why!" Tears streamed down his face as he demanded the German tell him what he needed to know.

Red was still trying. "He didn't answer you because I motioned to him not to Donald. Your fight isn't with him. Your fight is within you my friend."

"Shut up, Red! He can answer me!" He flung, before facing Berlin again.

"Tell me why, or I swear I'll shoot you right now!" And he aimed the gun squarely at Berlin again.

"Tell me!" he repeated.

And in the midst of his pain, with tears streaming down his face, he didn't notice the glance from Red that was suddenly focused behind him. All he saw was Berlin sitting calmly in his sights. He didn't focus on anything else.

Until a voice spoke in his ear, from behind him. "Ress...don't do this. I'm here."

It was Liz.

Ressler thought he was hallucinating. Liz wasn't here. _We're in the middle of the ocean. Liz isn't here!_

Except she was, approaching him from the side now. He saw her and glanced sideways at her. _Liz!_

"Liz! Berlin... he did this!" He needed to tell her.

"No, he didn't Ress...give me the gun..." She was crying now, seeing her partner in this state.

"Liz! No! Berlin did this!" He sobbed, trying to get her to understand.

"Give me the gun Ress..." she told him gently, very close to him now.

"Careful Lizzie, he's shaking so bad it could go off if you take it from him..." Red warned her, inching closer to Ressler from the other side.

"I'll help you okay? We'll put the gun down together." Liz told him softly, tears streaming down her face as she looked closely into Ressler's wild eyes.

"Liz... he did this..." But the fight had left him, and exhaustion was taking over.

"I'll help you put the gun down Ress...come on... together..." she told him gently, leaning on his shoulder, close against him.

He looked at her, blinded by his tears as she held his arm. She could feel him shaking uncontrollably under her, and kneeled down now, guiding him. He kneeled also on his shaking legs, and with her looking in his eyes, with her holding his arm and right beside him, he nodded.

And put the gun on the floor.

###

Red was there in an instant to retrieve it and flip the safety on. With a deeply worried look at Ressler and a grateful smile at Liz, he turned back to Berlin. "Come with me." And he steered Berlin and his men away from Ressler and Liz.

Ressler wasn't even aware Red and Berlin had left the room.

_I'm sorry...Liz!_

As they kneeled on the floor together he reached for her, his shaking body melding into hers as his trembling arms gripped her tight. Her arms were around him in seconds, leaning into him, holding him close as they sobbed together.

"I'm sorry... Liz... I'm sorry..." Was all he could repeat. He couldn't tell her HOW sorry he was.

"I know, I know you are...it's okay, I'm here..." Was all she could find to say. It was what he needed to hear.

Dembe had finally explained what was going on before they coasted silently into the yacht in the dark, having cut their motor a little way off. When they had pulled in, he had helped her on board and they had both looked up sharply as they'd heard Ressler screaming. Quickly directing her to where she needed to go to reach Ressler, she had come in behind him, unseen.

And what she had seen when she had come up softly behind her screaming, sobbing partner had broken her heart. And she had looked at Red in horror and silent understanding for why he'd needed her to be here.

And as soon as she had stood beside her partner, he had listened to her and reached out to her.

Only to her.

Just like Red knew he would.


	5. Together

As Red walked away with Berlin with his two henchmen in tow, he stole a look back at Liz and Ressler. The two of them were so close together, they were almost one, crouching together on the floor. And as he glanced at them, he saw the moment for which he'd had Lizzie come.

He saw the moment that Donald reached for Lizzie, letting his guard down completely.

And Red turned away then, leaving them in private.

He'd been right getting her here, of course. This 'fix' was ultimately much easier than what he'd gone through after the whole Mako Tanida fiasco. He'd had to work hard behind the scenes that week with Harold and Harold's superiors to keep Ressler employed. Not that any of them would have even been aware that strings were being silently pulled. He had ensured that Donald stayed right where he was - not only in the task force, but in the FBI. Donald never knew how close he came to being unemployed after THAT mess. Nor would Red ever tell the man. That's not how he did business.

He left the lounge area now, stepping out onto the wooden observation deck and into the warm night air. The underwater lights of the round Jacuzzi in the middle of the deck gave off a soft blue glow as he turned and faced Berlin.

"I trust this unfortunate incident hasn't changed our plans in any way." Said Red smoothly, with no hint of what he had felt as he'd watched Ressler crumble mere moments ago.

Berlin shrugged, and glanced back to the lounge area. "No harm done. Though your puppy is now sick as a dog," he said, chuckling lightly at his own joke. "I think he has too much of a 'good time' in his system - or not enough anymore, no?"

Red didn't find that amusing. Not in the slightest.

He faced Berlin squarely. "Listen to me. This is not something you will ever mention again. Nor will you ever consider using this against Agent Ressler in any way, as leverage of ANY kind. And if you EVER use it against Agent Ressler, I promise you that I will personally set about destroying your business piece by piece. I believe you're intimately familiar with the concept of something being destroyed piece by piece."

Berlin looked at Red for a moment, and then gave Red a slight smile. "I see Liz Keen is not the only weakness you have." He nodded then, in a gentleman's handshake. "But fair enough. I agree."

He looked beyond Red then out to the ocean, seeing lights approaching from the darkness. "And right on time. I believe my ride is here."

Red turned and saw the lights across the water, as Berlin's people came to pick him up. The boat that had brought Liz was now anchored a little way off the starboard side. He had quickly had Dembe inform the boat operator to move it away for now. He couldn't risk giving Donald any chance of using it and taking off. Not now. Not at this critical stage of his detox.

"I will take my leave of you now after a most… interesting… afternoon and evening. I will be in touch." said Berlin, nodding his farewell. He took a couple of steps, then turned back to face Red.

"Family, in any shape or form is always our downfall." It wasn't a threat. It was an observation and said without malice. And without waiting for a reply, Berlin headed for the spiral staircase to reach the lower deck where his boat was coming in to moor.

Dembe stood silently behind Red, watching Berlin leave. He knew his boss was just biding his time. He knew where his heart lay at this moment - just as Berlin had implied. And sure enough, the second Berlin was on his boat after disappearing inside it without a backward glance, Reddington turned and headed back toward the two FBI agents.

Dembe smiled, and in his usual place, walked a few steps behind to do whatever his boss required of him.

###

As Ressler had gasped for air through his tears and sunk to the floor with Liz, he wasn't sure if he was passing out or just too exhausted to function anymore. Crouching on the floor after putting the gun down, the only thing he had left were tears. He'd felt this hopeless and broken before after Audrey… in the snow. But his body had been functioning then, not abandoning and betraying him in withdrawal agony. Liz had been there for him then too. But not like this. This was… different. This was…deeper. She was right here beside him, soft and encouraging. Even through her own tears, she was strong where he couldn't be. Unable to hold himself up physically or emotionally any longer, he leaned into her, sought her out, desperate to bury himself in her strength. Desperate to let someone else take over for a little while. Letting his guard down in a way he never had with anyone, not even Audrey, he clutched her tightly and sobbed into her.

Exhaustion settled over him within minutes, his body simply too tired to shake, cramp or even cry any more. Sleep or unconsciousness was the only option left. His remaining strength fleeing, he leaned on Liz, his arms rapidly losing their grip around her now. Liz felt the change in him as his arms went slack around her, and moved slightly back from him to look at him. Leaning against her with eyes closed, he was silent, pale and still. She was about to call out to Red in fear, her arms supporting her partner, when Red and Dembe came back into the room.

"Red!" she cried out to him through her tears, her voice hitching as he leaned down to Ressler. She had known something hadn't been right with her partner for weeks. In Warsaw, she'd been angry at him for not being on his game. But this... this was unexpected. This was... She couldn't even find the right words to imagine what this was. She needed to talk to Red. Needed to find out what the hell had gone on that led Ressler to this point. But right now, her partners' immediate needs were her priority.

Red glanced at Dembe and both of them reached down to Ressler and hauled him up between them before dropping him gently to the couch. As Liz placed a couch pillow under his head, Ressler was out before she even covered him with his suit jacket that was on the couch nearby. He wasn't so much asleep as on the brink of unconsciousness.

Liz knelt on the floor beside the couch, leaning over him, studying him. This was not the same man who had left her side approximately 10 hours ago, dubious about going sailing, but still striding confidently behind Red as they'd left. Now he was a complete mess. Hair unkempt, face covered in sweat and tears, red rimmed eyes clearly visible under his closed eyes, complete with dark circles under them. Dressed in shorts and a shirt that weren't his, bare legged and shoeless, he didn't even look like himself.

Red handed her a damp cloth now, and as she gently wiped Ressler's pallid face he didn't move at all under her touch. She looked up at Red who was standing behind the couch, leaning on it and looking quietly and thoughtfully down at the two of them.

"What happened to him? Was it Berlin? Did Berlin do this to him?!" Liz asked Red, regaining her composure now. Dembe appeared at her side with a blanket, and after removing Ressler's suit jacket, she placed it over him. Red still hadn't answered her.

"Red?" Liz asked him, and he appeared to shake himself then looked directly at her. "Yes and no. Berlin had a hand in this - no pun intended - but he didn't cause this outright." He stood up now, and came beside her. Reaching his hand down to help her up off the floor, she declined it, choosing to remain on the floor and sit right beside Ressler. He smiled and nodded, then sat down on the other couch near her.

Liz hardly took her eyes off her sleeping/unconscious partner as Red spoke to her. "Lizzie, as much as I'd like to tell you what happened here tonight, I'm afraid this is something Donald needs to tell you himself. It will help him far more if he is the one to tell you. And I think we want to help him as much as we can, correct?"

Liz didn't even answer that. The answer was obvious.

###

Three hours later, Ressler opened his eyes. The lights in the room were dim and he couldn't for the life of him think where he was. His body hurt, surrounded in muscles that ached and quivered intolerably as a low tremble ran through him. Moving his head slightly, ignoring the pain that inflicted, he saw someone leaning their head on the couch beside him.

_Liz...?_

_Oh my God!_ He remembered where he was and what had happened. It was all a blur, but he remembered the highlights. Or the lowlights, more to the point.

_Berlin! I held a gun on him and... Went ballistic._

_And then Liz was here... And she... and I... Oh God..._

Turning more to his side now, his muscles screaming as he moved, he adjusted position and lay on his left side, looking at her sleeping beside him. She lay on her elbow, her hair half back, and half hanging over her face. She was here. Red had got her here, more to the point. _Why?_

_You know why._

Feeling his movement, she stirred, moved her head a little and was looking right at him as she opened her eyes. For a moment, they just held each others eyes. And for that moment, all those glances in the office, the ones shared, and the ones he'd snuck in when he didn't even understand WHY he looked at her, made sense.

But then he faltered. _She should never have had to come out here like this, because of me._

She saw instantly the moment he doubted, the moment he began to retreat and shook her head and spoke softly to him in the semi lit room. "No, don't go back there. Ress, talk to me."

_And I need to... I will Liz, but I... I need to get out of here!_

His heart rate was rising, and with it, his muscles wanted to cramp again. When he tried to speak, he found his voice raspy and dry. "I...Liz..." He needed to move. He couldn't lay there a moment longer as his muscles quivered, ready to cramp at any second.

"...cramp..." he managed to get out, and then his calf muscles locked up completely under the blanket.

"Where?" she asked him hurriedly, climbing to her feet.

"Calves!" he grit his teeth, laying on his back again now, as she moved the blanket up and pushed his feet up toward him, stretching his calf muscles out. As his muscles unlocked and his breathing steadied, she covered his lower legs with the blanket again.

"I... need to walk. Need... to get up." he panted, and she helped him sit up then. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, she held onto his arm, and he looked sideways at her. _Liz I... I need... I'm sorry... I know I..._ The thoughts ran through his head, but he couldn't say a word to her - couldn't form a coherent word right now. All he could do was move.

So he began to walk slowly to keep his muscles moving, restarting his laps. She kept her arm looped in his and walked with him. He didn't stop her. He leaned into her when he needed to as his stomach cramped, and kept walking, continuing slow laps around the room. She didn't ask why he needed to walk. His quivering body told her why - there was NO way he could keep still.

After the first lap, he picked up the speed, and by the second lap, he was walking briskly again just as he'd been earlier. The difference was, this time he wasn't doing his laps alone. This time, Liz held onto his arm while he walked, keeping pace with him.

Supporting him, physically and emotionally.

###

She could feel him faltering as he walked now. He was staggering more, and she knew he needed to stop. "Ress, take a break." she encouraged, but he shook his head quickly.

"No. Can't stop." and he pushed on, forcing his muscles to keep flexing. His heart rate was rising. _I need to get off this boat!_

"We need to take a break." and she tried to slow him. He kept up the pace, turning from the cockpit into the living area now.

"Liz! No!" Panic had found him again. And it was reaching out its cold fingers into his heart.

_I have to get out of here!_

She looked up at him sharply. Something in the way he'd said her name got her attention. He looked flushed, his eyes darting wildly. She stopped walking and held his arm forcing him to stop.

"Ress! Talk to me." she told him firmly, needing him to focus.

_Can't! Liz! Help me!_

"Liz!" He looked around wildly now. "I need to get out of here!"

She reached for him, and felt him shaking hard now. Trying to hold him steady, she looked into his eyes. "Focus. Look at me!" But he couldn't concentrate on her. His breath was heaving in his chest now.

"I need to get off this boat!" He broke free from her grasp and lunged for the cockpit, heading down the stairs to the front deck. He needed fresh air. Even sea air.

_Can't breathe!_

She followed him, very concerned he'd do something stupid like jump overboard. "Ressler!" She tried to get his attention, but he was pacing around the deck from side to side now, his chest heaving as he took great gulps of air.

"No! Gotta get out of here!" he spun around to her. "Liz! Get me out of here! Please!" He begged her, tears running down his cheeks now.

Her heart broke for him. This wasn't him. All she knew was the little Dembe had told her, that Ressler had been on some pills and was unable to get to them right now, and not doing so good. Understatement. She ran to her partner now, holding his arms, forcing him to look at her.

"Ressler! Look at me! NOW." She held his arm with one hand, and cupped his wet cheek in her other hand, trying to get him to look at her.

"LIZ!" He screamed at her now. "Get me out of here! NOW!" He couldn't stay here. Not out here on this dark water, Not on this boat that was bobbing in the middle of nowhere.

_I can't breathe! Liz!_

"Look at me." She ordered him, and suddenly his eyes met hers. "Look at me. And breathe in. Steady." He looked at her, unable to breathe in, but now unable to drag his eyes from hers. She used that.

"Look at me. You are safe. We are safe here." she told him steadily as he panted and cried in front of her. His hands flew to her then, gripping her forearms, holding her in front of him.

"Liz!" He held her eyes, as he gripped her arms. "I need to...!" he implored her with his eyes.

"Can't breathe..." he panted and now she placed one hand on his chest, leaning close to him, with her hand on his heaving chest. "Look at my hand Ress. Look at it. Slow my hand down now. Make it move slower."

He looked at her hand, saw it rising and falling quickly on his chest. _Slow it down. Slow her hand down!_ And he concentrated, looking only at her hand. Her small hand, rising and falling rapidly on his chest. _Slow it down!_ He gazed at her hand, trying to catch his breath. Slowly making his breathing change so her hand did not rise and fall so quickly. And concentrating on her hand, he slowed ir down, until it was rising and falling at a steadier pace.

She watched him, keeping silent now, letting him concentrate on slowing her hand down. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest beneath her hand, but his breathing was slowing.

"Liz..." he whispered, and placed his bruised right hand over her small hand now, trapping her hand against his chest. He had successfully slowed down the movement, and he kept looking at it under his large hand.

He looked down at her now, lifting his gaze from her hand on his chest, breathing steadier, though still trembling. He couldn't do anything about the trembling, not until his muscles and nerves were done looking for their next dose.

"There we go..." she said softly. He just looked at her, quivering, but calm now.

As the panic subsided, exhaustion took its place. But the exhaustion was more than creeping in. It was hitting him over the head loud and clear. He couldn't keep up this pace much longer.

"Sleep..." he whispered, and moved then, dropping her hand from his chest, but holding it in his hand. And keeping hold of her hand, he led her up the stairs to the cockpit, and through the living area. She had thought he would stop at the couch, but he didn't. Picking up the blanket, he led her downstairs and she saw the bedroom level for the first time. A couple of doors were closed, to the rooms she assumed Red and Dembe were sleeping in.

Ressler walked silently and unsteadily to the master suite at the end of the hallway, still holding her hand as she kept pace with him. Entering the large room, she marveled at how beautiful this yacht was. He gently released her hand now and made his way to the recliner, throwing the blanket on it before retrieving his pillow from the bed. He motioned to the side of the bed he hadn't slept in, so tired he could barely stand now. So tired he couldn't even form a single word.

There was nothing intimate in what he was doing. He just needed her close. He needed her here with him. And he knew she understood that without him needing to explain it.

He dropped to the recliner then and wrapped the blanket around him as he lay back in sheer exhaustion. She stood by him and placed her hand on his chest again. And unable to keep his eyes open any longer he drifted off to sleep almost immediately, feeling her hand on his chest.

_Liz..._

She gently removed her hand once he was out, kicked off her shoes and jacket, and climbed into the bed. Looking across at him sleeping, she did understand. The one thing Ressler needed more than anything in the world right now was support from his best friend.

And your best friend is here Ress, she thought, before lying down. Unable to fall asleep, she lay and watched him. He was so exhausted he barely moved. Tears welled up in her eyes suddenly, seeing what his life had reduced him to. He hadn't told her yet, but she knew enough to know this had been brought about through great loss, starting the day Audrey had died in his arms.

And tears fell, as she cried softly for her heart broken Boy Scout.


	6. Free

Ressler's head hurt. Not with one of those simple 'eye strain' headaches. No, this was a headache worthy of the Guinness Book of Records. This was a headache that might make someone wonder in terror if their brain was bleeding. And while he had briefly wondered that himself he knew this was just another cry for opiates that his brain was making. So he lay back on the recliner in the semi dark, unable to open his eyes, feeling only searing pain in his head.

It also occurred to him now that he was cold. His single blanket that had been sufficient when he first fell asleep simply wasn't keeping up enough now. But the thought of getting up to get another blanket was much too difficult, so he lay there, starting to shiver. Which was now doing such a number on his throbbing head.

_Oh God…that does not feel good…_

And then he remembered he wasn't alone. And despite the pain in his head and the shiver in his body, that thought warmed his heart.

"Liz…?" He called out to her without opening his eyes. He felt sure that any effort to move his eyelids right now would render him unconscious with the pain that would ensue if he looked into lights.

"Hey, I'm here." She woke at the sound of his voice and was beside him in an instant. He felt her hand brush his cheek. "You're cold…let me get you another blanket here."

He hadn't even had to tell her. She was already on it and less than a minute later he felt a heavier blanket placed over him, and she tucked it in around him. "That better?" she asked him gently in the semi dark, and he forgot and tried to nod, then grimaced at the pain that shot through his head.

"Head…" he whispered, panting at the pain behind his eyes.

"Let me see if I can find you something to take…"

"No!" he said fearfully, and she could have kicked herself. Damn. Way to go. Tell the addict in opiate withdrawal that she'd get him something for pain.

"Wait…I know what will help." And she left his side. He heard water running in the bathroom and then she was back and he felt a hot, wet cloth placed over his eyes and forehead. It helped. More than he would have imagined.

"Thank you…" he whispered, and so she began to treat his headache. Changing the hot, wet cloth every few minutes, keeping his eyes and forehead warm, she slowly helped ease the pain in his head. Eventually he fell asleep again and she watched him for a little while. His shivering was easing now as he warmed up.

When she was sure it looked liked he'd sleep for a little while, she quietly left the room and headed upstairs. The sky had a pink glow to it as the sun was beginning to rise over the water, filling the lounge area with its soft light. Hearing low voices coming from the galley she headed that way and found Red and Dembe sharing an early morning coffee. Sinking into a chair, she joined them, as Red asked her how their patient was doing this morning.

###

"We have good news, and bad news, depending on which side of the fence you happen to be sitting on this morning." Said Red.

Ressler was trying very hard to listen, sitting wrapped in the blankets on the recliner. His head was feeling more like its old self, and while not ready to meet the world head on – _pun intended_ – he was able to open his eyes and look at Red as he spoke to him. He'd woken to the sound of both Red and Liz in the room, and while fervently wishing they'd shut up so he could rest, he had eventually let them know he was awake.

"What's the good news?" asked Ressler weakly. _Because I could really use some good news about now._

Red smiled at him, and informed him the boat repairs were under way. "Good old Frank got here at first light armed with hoses and hydraulic fluid, and he's having a whale of a time in the engine room, setting everything right."

That finally sunk in to Ressler's spongy brain. "So…we're getting out of here soon?" If so, that was the best news Ressler had heard all day.

But one look at Red's face told him that was the bad news part of this equation.

"Aaahh, well, yes and no. We will be seaworthy again. But we won't be going…far." He smiled at the FBI agent. Ressler suddenly felt the urge to thump him. If he could have moved, that is. If he'd been unable to stop moving overnight, now his body had reached the other end of the spectrum and it was unable to move. At all. His muscles that had been shaking non stop had now reached the point they needed to rest and regroup.

Liz spoke up, and he slowly moved his head to look at her. "We're going to anchor near a small island. You'll be able to get off the yacht and get on dry land for a bit. We're not heading for the mainland yet though, Ress. We're going to let you…rest a bit more." She laid her hand on his arm as she explained, and he looked silently at her, then back at Red.

_They've got it all figured out…_ "But we need to get back..."

"As far as Cooper is concerned, we're helping Red with something and will be back in a couple of days." She smiled and leaned toward him to reassure him, seeing the wariness in his eyes. Eyes that were not nearly so dilated this morning, she noticed. "It will be okay. Just give yourself some time here."

He was literally too tired to argue and lay his head back on the recliner, and nodded silently. And as he closed his eyes tiredly, he felt the pitch in the yacht change and felt her steady on the water now. The stabilizers were repaired. He opened his eyes and looked at Red.

"Aaahh, there we go Donald, that will help." And Red patted his shoulder before getting up to leave the room, leaving him with Liz.

"Would you rather take the bed now and get more comfortable…"

He fell asleep as she was asking him if he'd prefer the bed, unable to stay awake any longer.

###

Up in the cockpit, Liz was actually enjoying herself. With Ressler over the worst of his physical withdrawal, she was letting him rest, checking in on him every so often. As Red got the yacht underway, she watched in much the same amount of amusement as her partner had at seeing him sail the mammoth yacht.

"It's one of the few pleasures I have left in life, Lizzie." He explained, smiling at her.

She grinned at him. "Well it suits you, Captain."

He sailed the yacht toward the north east, heading for a small slip of an island. He checked the map again, made a minor adjustment to their heading and before long she saw land appearing ahead of them. He slowed the yacht now, as he rounded the point on the island, revealing a crescent beach of white sand. The island had no buildings on it, and was maybe 3 miles in length. Coming into the crescent bay, he shut the engines down and dropped anchor a couple of hundred yards off the beach out in the deeper water.

"Oh, it's beautiful." She told him, and headed to the observation deck on the back, looking at the small island and beach before her.

She was leaning on the rail, looking out at the sight when Ressler quietly appeared beside her. She looked up in surprise, as he looked quietly down at her. He was wearing sunglasses, his eyes not quite ready to face the glare of the sun just yet.

"Thought I'd join the land of the living." He said softly.

She smiled and looped her arm through his, and stood on the deck with him as they looked out at the small island. From behind them, Red watched them as he approached from the lounge area, and smiled.

###

An hour later they were on the beach, after Dembe had dropped them off in the dinghy and then rowed back to the yacht. They didn't walk too far, before finding a shady spot to sit down. With a few trees at their backs they looked out at the beach as waves gently washed up on shore. Ressler had never been a fan of the beach, but this…this was actually pleasant. Their own private shoreline.

She settled beside him, each of them leaning on a small tree, sitting in the sand. He flipped the borrowed boat shoes off and let his toes feel the sand. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this…free.

_Good ole Red… gotta hand it to the guy…_

He looked at her beside him, and knew the time had come. She met his eyes and knew what he was thinking. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to Ress."

"I know." And it was precisely because he didn't HAVE to tell her, that he began to talk to her. "Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you Liz? I tried so many times. And then I just couldn't do it. I couldn't… disappoint you that much."

She watched him, not wanting to interrupt him now that he was beginning to talk to her. He looked down and picked up a stick, tracing lines in the sand as he spoke.

"You asked me to promise you that I would talk to you if…when…things got too unbearable." He looked sideways at her then, and she nodded and smiled softly. "I didn't promise you. And I wish…I wish I had been able to before…before this." He played with the stick in the sand, gathering his thoughts. His brain was clearer than it had been in a very long time, and he chose his words carefully. He'd never been a big talker, but he needed Liz to understand that he really had tried.

He needn't have worried on that count though. She spoke now. "I know you didn't promise me, but I'm betting you promised yourself you'd try." He shot a glance to her now. _How did she know that?_ She smiled at him, and he realized she knew him even better than he did himself at times. He nodded at that, and gave her a small smile.

"I didn't even know for a very long time I had a problem…" he continued, looking down at the sand again, making shapes with the stick. "It was only to help me cope after…Audrey." He stopped moving the stick, remembering the day he'd reached for the pills to help with emotional aspect for the first time. "They were left over from my thigh wound, and I just took one. But it helped, and then the next day I took another one. And so it began…"

He sighed, and leaned back on the tree. "It was too easy Liz. I had the pain pills, and could get more. It was too easy…"

"And then after Meera, and Cooper, you took more…" she prompted, knowing that had happened. He nodded, and looked up at her, and she could see the pain in his features as he remembered. "I don't know why I couldn't do it myself anymore…" He looked at her, searching her eyes. "Why couldn't I do it…? I'm stronger than that…"

"You couldn't do it because from the moment you started taking them regularly, your body chemistry changed. Your brain changed. You were no longer in control Ress. So while YOU could have done it, the pills themselves were calling the shots by then." She told him gently, watching as realization washed over him.

_Of course…I wasn't ME any longer…_

"At the risk of sounding like Aram…that's kinda scary Liz…" he shifted against the tree trunk, his body still in pain, looking out at the ocean now toward the yacht anchored in the bay.

"I tried once, to come off them." He told her, and looked down at the stick, resuming drawing shapes with it. "The day I was late for work before we left for Warsaw…that's why…I couldn't do it and had to give in and take them in the early hours of the morning…"

She reached out and patted his arm at that. "I'm sorry. If I'd known, I'd have helped you…" He nodded at that.

_Yes, you would have. But I couldn't accept help at that point…_

"And then after Warsaw…after my screw up and crap reaction time, I tried to tell you again. And again after Covington and those kids…and so many times Liz." He looked down now, remembering just how many times he'd tried.

"That's why you wouldn't talk to Dr Friedman…" she said, knowing the answer now. It all made such sense, in hindsight.

"Oh that woman would have seen through me in an instant." He said quickly, shaking his head at that memory. "Apart from the fact I really, really didn't want to go over Meera's death, and Audrey's death… with her…"

"Well according to Cooper, Dr Friedman isn't that concerned about you." She told him, remembering her conversation with their boss. The 'Elizabeth' conversation.

He looked sideways at her, surprised at that. "Then she's not as good a doctor as I thought. She SHOULD have been concerned about me!" And he actually managed a small grin at that.

"So…what happened? What changed out here on the yacht? You didn't bring any pills with you?" she asked him now.

"Well, I could tell you 'oh my pills fell overboard'. Because they did. That's what happened to them. BUT…they wouldn't have fallen overboard if I wasn't already losing it. And that's where it gets fuzzy…" He remembered Berlin's men and Dembe holding him down, and shuddered at that. "So it was rather surreal in a way. I wasn't myself, and because of that I ended up losing the very thing that was causing me not to be myself…" He tossed the stick away, as he tried to make sense of that.

"But in hindsight, it turned out to be the very thing you needed." She said gently, and he slowly nodded at that, running his hand through his hair.

"Yeah…I never could have done it with the pills near me. I already tried that once."

"Which brings up the obvious next question…where are your other pills? I know you have to have another bottle stashed at home. That's why you needed to get out of there and get to them…" She asked gently, needing him to be honest. This part was crucial.

"Yes…bathroom cabinet. And my desk drawer at the office…" he told her, almost fearfully. He was afraid of even thinking about them right now. Afraid of what he would do the second he saw the pills.

"I will take them away for you." She reassured him, and he looked at her gratefully, nodding. She scooted closer to him now, leaning into him. He looked at her, meeting her eyes from behind his sunglasses.

"And from now on, you talk to me every day about this. Every day, you and I take stock of where you're at, and how you're coping. Understand?"

Relief flooded over him. _I don't have to do this by myself._

"I understand." He looked into her eyes, feeling her close beside him as they sat on the sand. And it occurred to him that if he'd just opened up to her when she'd asked him to. If he had just trusted her, things would have turned out different.

_If I had promised her weeks ago…none of this would have happened this way..._

"I promise."

She smiled, and leaned on him, close beside him as they watched the waves gently crashing onshore. And for a little while, the outside world with all its problems, issues, death and drama was forgotten, and he felt free.

THE END

* * *

 

_Author's Note: So, I hope it was 'believable'. (I know I condensed how long opiate withdrawal is. I researched it and saw it can take several days, to a week or more and then weeks of lesser symptoms.) But I wanted to address it this way, and give one scenario of what could have happened to get him off the pain pills. Now we wait and see what the show will give us on our favourite suffering agent!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_I feel like Ian Fleming - "Donald Ressler will return in... ?" Yes, I will write another Ressler story. Can't get enough of our beautiful, tortured Ressler - my heart broken Boy Scout._


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